


Complexities (Shizaya Week 2020)

by Galaticx



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: F/M, M/M, Shizaya Week, unbeta'd as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 10:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27968996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galaticx/pseuds/Galaticx
Summary: They're bizarre, Izaya and Shizuo, both so different, yet both so alike. They go together, like two sides of a coin, even if they don't always get along. Then again, what would Shizuo Hewajima be without Izaya Orihara?A collection of Shizaya Week 2020 drabbles, all written in a hurry because I'd forgotten it was Shizaya week!They all fall into my Durarara!! Fix-it fic, so there are a few inconsistencies with canon!
Relationships: Heiwajima Shizuo/Orihara Izaya, Kishitani Shinra/Celty Sturluson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24
Collections: Shizaya Week 2020





	1. Day One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day One:  
> High School Days / “Let me dye your hair.”; 1623 words

A loud snap reverberates throughout the classroom, once filled with a clamorous chatter that fell immediately silent following the sound. Deathly quiet, like a cemetery on a frozen winter eve, every student in the room turns to glance in the direction of the sound’s source and then fell still. It is as if they fear even the slightest shift of a breath would set the sights of a terrible, carnivorous beast on them, bloodthirsty and ravenous. Every pair of eyes settle on the scowling expression of their blonde classmate, and then on the raven smirking behind him.

Izaya lays, leaning over his desk in a languid reach, his left arm propped up at the elbow so that three fingers could grasp at several locks of hair. Shizuo holds the remnants of his pencil in his palm, shattered into too many pieces to bother counting, his posture tight with his shoulders hunched. He snarls, lips pulling back like a predator would bare its teeth, and rises to his feet.

Every single one of his classmates step back, most stepping towards the door. “Iiizaaya-kuun,” starts the blonde as he twists around, catching sight of that pleased expression. A vein atop his forehead throbs, and he opens his clenched right hand, dispensing the shattered remains of his pencil onto his desktop. “What do you think you’re doing!”

There isn’t the shadow of a flinch across the raven’s face when Shizuo slams one hand down onto his desk, denting the surface of it. Someone dares to mutter, from within the crowd by the door, “oh dude, Izaya’s _so-ho-ho_ dead this time,”

Shizuo swings around, brown eyes fierce beneath his dyed bangs that cast an ominous sort of shade across his features. “Which of you said that, huh? Say it to my face!” Several of the students make a mad dash out the door, but by the time the blonde turns back around, Izaya has disappeared, likely out the classroom’s other door.

“Hewajima-san!” Shouts the teacher as he sprints from the room, after the other boy who has long since disappeared. “Hewajima-san! Come back!”

But he doesn’t listen to her, and has instead pushed his way through the gathered crowds within the halls, most of which are lingering alongside their friends before heading to their morning homeroom. He rounds a corner and nearly slips down a flight of stairs, but, as he stands there looking somewhere between infuriated and lost, he feels light fingers brush the top of his head.

Devilish auburn colored eyes glimmer at him as Izaya leans down over the stairway railing, all of his weight secured by his hips, pressed to the metal, and one leg, firm to the stair beneath his foot. He has a grin that matches the mischievous look in his eyes; wild, taunting, playful, yet oh-so threatening.

Pale fingers catch in artificially-blonde locks once more, and he chuckles. “Shizu-chan, you’re too easy to rile up! I’ve hardly even done anything today,”

“Yet!” Snaps Shizuo as he jumps up, swinging his body over the railing as he makes a desperate grab for a slim hand. Izaya dances out of reach. He’s always just out of reach. “You make a mess of every! Single! Day! Give me a break, Orihara!”

Not that the raven is listening. In fact, he’s already atop the flight of stairs, turning to his left to round the corner to the next floor. With a howling cry of rage, he’s pursued up to the top story of the school, a flat roof fenced in with chain links. Shizuo bursts through the door, finding that his quarry waits for him, perched atop a fence’s metal top. When he leans back, precariously placed, they both hear a girl cry out from the courtyard, startled.

Izaya swings his feet, seemingly unworried or unwitting that the blonde could easily lift the fence, and him with it, and toss them both over the roof’s edge. He tsks his tongue, and draws a knife from his pants pocket, levelling it in the direction of brown eyes.

“I just wanted to talk to you, Shizu-chan! You’re always jumping to conclusions,” he shakes his head, and flings the knife upwards, halfhearted. Shizuo watches as he catches it by the end of the hilt, repeating the motion.

Huffing, the blonde stuffs both of his hands into his pants pockets, drawing his shoulders up in a defensive sort of stance. “You shouldn’t go around just _touching_ people, flea. Who knows where the fuck you’ve been,”

Still flipping the knife in his left hand, the raven leans forward and begins to count on his free fingers. “Let’s see… I’ve only been here and home, so where’s the concern? I can assure you; my home is quite clean.”

“That’s not the issue here!” His fingers itch in his pockets, and he clenches them uselessly. “What did you even want? Leading me all the way up here, you’ve gotta want something, asshole.”

Not a beat is skipped. Izaya leans forward. “Let me dye your hair,”

“What?”

“You heard me!”

Shizuo stares at him, wide-eyed and mouth agape. As he feels his hands slip from his pockets, suddenly heavy, he can’t help but notice the way his face heats, though from embarssment or rage he’s entirely unsure. Just thinking about it makes him all the more pissed off.

Cursing, the blonde steps closer, straining his neck as he stands straight to reach the older student’s face. They’re face-to-face, but Izaya merely reaches down once again and takes a handful of blonde locks, pulling them taut. If it hurts, he receives no reaction. “Your roots, they’re growing out. Soon your hair will look like a marble cake,”

Indignant, the taller boy huffs into the raven’s face. In the morning light, with the warm sun reflecting off from Izaya’s own hair, it looks more brown than black. Shizuo can’t help but wonder if it was always like that, or if it’s just a trick. Of the sun or the other student, that was debatable. All the same, he snaps once again. “As if! You’d probably dye it green, or some other shitty color. Get off of my hair.”

Izaya pulls it tighter between his pointer and middle fingers, folding one of the longer locks between the middle and ring before he runs his thumb over it. “It’d be a lot easier than doing it yourself. Besides, I can help you find some better shampoo. Dying your hair so often is going to ruin it, Shizu-chan! And I’d hate for you to go bald. Who would take me seriously then? Being chased around by a bald high schooler!”

“Kasuka already helps,” tanned fingers try to release the grip on his hair, but it’s to no avail. He suddenly wishes he had scissors, just so he could cut himself free. “I don’t need your help. I don’t _want_ your help, you goddamned flea.”

He grabs the raven by a black pants leg, yanking him roughly down from the top of the chain link fence. That earns him a surprised gasp, but he has no time to relish in it before the grip on his hair tightens all the more. Stifling a pained groan, he slips one hand underneath both of Izaya’s arms, pinning him against the fence so that his feet are high enough from the ground that his hair isn’t being yanked.

“Ooh, Shizu-chan~,” they’re eye-to-eye, face-to-face, with their noses mere inches apart, and Shizuo swears he can smell hints of coffee on his breath, “it didn’t cross my mind that you’d enjoy having your hair pulled so much!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The insinuation actually did go fully over his head, his head that was very much in need of a root touchup. However, his allowance was running thin, especially after that last test grade. Not that he was going to own up to that to the flea’s face.

Whatever Izaya had to say got caught on his tongue when someone cleared their throat, accompanied by a knock to the roof’s door. They both turn their heads with sudden movements, the blonde grunting softly when he tugs his own hair against the grip of pale fingers. Tom and Kadota stand in the doorway, the latter of which has his hand clasped over his chin and bottom lip as if gauging the situation.

Shizuo takes abrupt notice of just how close he was holding the raven, and goes to drop him. Without the effortless support beneath his, albeit light, frame, Izaya collapses to the roof floor like a sack of flour. His grasp slips free in his shock before he’s dispensed rather rudely to his rear.

“The teachers sent us to get you,” says Tom, as he motions for his friend to accompany him. Shizuo takes one final glare down at the raven, hissing an expected threat, before stalking off. Izaya shifts and rubs the seat of his pants, pouting, as they retreat into the stairwell. “What was all of that about?”

Grumbling, the blonde doesn’t answer, instead following behind his friend with his hands shoved back into his pockets. When they step into the bathroom for a moment, so that Shizuo may wash the _damn flea smell_ from his hands, he takes a moment to investigate his hair. The roots really have grown out a decent amount.

“Hey, Tom-kun,” starts the blonde, “do you know how to dye hair?”

“Hm?” He’s regarded with a curious, sidelong gaze from dark brown eyes. “No, can’t say that I do. Why?”

“No reason,” Shizuo huffs, wetting his hair with a paper towel where Izaya had touched, ignoring the fact that he could still smell the traces of the coffee on that damn flea’s breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos!


	2. Day Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Two:  
> “Yes, I hate you too.”; 1315 words

Izaya hadn’t bothered Ikebukuro in weeks, and it was driving Shizuo up a wall. Each and every corner he rounded left him wondering if the flea was going to be on the other side, a knife in his hand and that snakish smirk on his lips. Drumming his fingers against one thigh, the blonde held an unlit cigarette to his lips, waiting outside the company building for Tom. He moves to fish his lighter from his righthand pocket, only to find it missing.

He grunts, wetting his lip so that the cigarette would stick long enough for him to better search his pocket. Someone reaches into his vision, stilling his movements, and flicks a lighter on, catching the end of his cigarette. “Thanks, T-” He starts, the name of his employer on his lips, having expected to glance down and find him there. However, his brown eyes meet auburn ones, and his words immediately catch in his throat.

“Hey there, Shizu-chan!” Izaya hops backwards, looking as effortlessly graceful as always, before Shizuo could make a grab for him. Scowling, the blonde watches him back away, brow twitching as he takes a slow drag. He’s being watched like a cat watches prey, waiting for it to move so that it can play until it’s become hungry.

Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he holds his hand out, palm up. “Gimme my lighter back, damned cockroach,” he’s both pleasantly surprised and suspicious when it’s handed back without any struggle, “and haven’t I told you not to come to Ikebukuro?”

Izaya sighs, feigning dramatics as he leans back with the back of one hand to his brow. “Oh, dear me, Shizu-chan, I tried! Just to humor your wishes, at the least, but I was so booored,” auburn catching brown, he stands straight and takes a few steps forward, “so I figured, oh, why not just go visit Shizu-chan anyways!”

“Is this a social call to you? No wonder you don’t have friends.” He rolls the cigarette in his fingers, before drawing it back to his lips to take a slow drag, brow twitching with a growing rage. “Let me guess, you want me to chase you all around Ikebukuro? Too bad, flea, I’m working.”

“Are you?” Leaning on his heels, the raven looks this way and that around Shizuo’s taller frame. “Funny, I don’t see Tanaka-kun anywhere. Which means… you aren’t quite on duty yet, huh?”

Flicking ash, the blonde scowls down at the older man. “Lemme put it this way, flea. I. Don’t. Wanna. I’m not wasting the time on you today; I’ve had a pretty good week. You’re not ruining it.”

Huffing indignantly, Izaya grabs him by the cuff of his tailored shirt and manages to drag him a few steps while he’s momentarily stunned with surprise. By the time Shizuo has pulled his sleeve from the surprisingly strong grip, they’re in front of a bench placed along the sidewalk. It’s early morning still, and few people mill by, most of them not sparing even a cursory glance as the raven takes a seat, patting the seat beside him.

Shizuo exhales a cloud of smoke as he sighs, though he decides to humor the other man. Why, he’s not quite sure, but still he draws one leg on top the other, resting his left calf atop his right knee. He bounces his foot as he sits there, drawing another pull of the cigarette. They sit in a comfortable sort of silence for a surprising length of time before he finally relaxes enough to sit back, slinging his left arm over the bench’s backrest. The ends of his fingers stop just a hair’s width from Izaya’s jacket.

“Was it because I hadn’t been around?” Asks the raven, sudden, as he glances into the street.

Around his cigarette, a questioning “hm,” follows, though brown eyes never leave the tanned fingers clenched tight in the lap of black tailored pants.

“Your week being good, I mean,” Izaya clarifies, “was it good because I wasn’t bothering you?” Shizuo misses the way his gaze darts up to a strong jaw, curtained by dyed hair, shifting along the shape until it settles onto his lips. From there, it drifts upwards, tracing the shape of his nose from the bottom up until it finally stops on brown eyes, turned the color of caramelized honey in the early sunlight.

Another slow drag is taken. “Nah,” he sighs again, blowing smoke from his nose. With the slight chill of the morning, Shizuo’s cheeks have been tinted ever-so-slightly red, as well as the end of his nose. Somehow, it makes him look more human, even as he exhales smoke like a dragon. “I lied. It’s been nothing spectacular. Was starting to worry you’d made some sort of horrible plans,”

“Like what?” Rocking in place, the raven sits forward to cut his features into the unyielding gaze of brown eyes. “Impart upon me your wisdom, o’ monster,”

That earns him a growl. “Dunno. With you, I can never be too sure. Maybe you’d finally figured out some way to finally kill me.” His cigarette begins to draw to an end as the moments tick by. Tom still hasn’t come looking.

“Not seeing me stresses you out, hm?”

“Not because I care, or anything.” Shizuo responds with such a quick bite that Izaya can only laugh in response. Humming playfully, the raven leans in with his head, so that the ends of his hair brushes against the tan hand still resting atop the backrest.

Out of reflex, he nearly tugs his hand away from the motion, but, instead, when no attack is made, the blonde stays still. With no reaction given to shove the other away, black-brown locks soon layer atop his hand, topped by a pale forehead.

Izaya’s skin is warm against the early spring’s morning, though he’s cool to Shizuo’s own temperature. “Poor Shizu-chan can’t even stand to be away from me for more than a near three-week basis,” says the shorter man in a lilting tone, “how horrible! I’ll have to visit more often, even if I am busy.”

Fingers grasp his hair, tugging curtly. That earns a sharp gasp and hiss of pain, though no movement was made to pull away. “I told you to stay the hell outta Ikebukuro. Like shit I want you to come back here, flea.”

The silence returns to them then, though just as comfortable as before, even as Shizuo’s fingers mindlessly thread raven locks. Eventually, he checks the time, and glances in the direction of his company building. Tom is still nowhere in sight, so he grumbles, and leans back in his seat.

“Just so we’re clear, I still do hate you.”

Izaya laughs, though he does turn his head to the side, pressing his cheek into the opening palm of the blonde’s hand. His skin is tremendously warm, radiating heat like a fire stove. It’s impossible to say what came over the both of them, letting the other so close. Perhaps it was merely the fact they both were starved of basic human interaction.

But then again, did monsters need touch to survive?

Though, as Izaya glances up at the younger man’s features, his face turned skywards so that the sun dusts his cheeks, revealing the slightest blemishes and even slighter freckles, a piece of him wonders just how inhuman Shizuo truly was. When strong fingers clasp the back of his neck, holding him still when he begins to shift, he remembers just what it was that made him so monstrous. When the sunlight bounces off of artificially blonde layers of hair, blinding, the realization sinks in further.

Still, however, that grip that so easily shatters cars, traffic signs, and building alike remains weak against his pale skin, instead merely radiating a pleasant warmth that lets him close his auburn eyes in content.

“Yes, I hate you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos!


	3. Day Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Three:  
> Injury / Hurt & Comfort; 1236 words

Izaya hisses as his fingers clamp down around an open gash along his inner arm, crimson leaking through the tight grip, staining his dark-blue jeans in a haphazard spotted pattern. A car screams past the alleyway he’s taken cover in, causing him to flinch as the headlights blind his auburn eyes. There’s a flurry of panicked breaths as he worries that the car had spotted him, along with the passengers inside.

But the car continues going.

Exhaling a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, Izaya rifled around an inside pocket of his coat, extracting a folding knife. He takes the blade to the soft fabric of his shirt, cutting strips which he then wraps around his right forearm, attempting to tie it as tight as possible, but his fingers are much too untrained in such matters. The knot undoes itself and he snarls in a mixture of frustration and pain.

Forcing himself to his feet, he’s quick to learn that his arm wasn’t the only injured part of him. Some bruising, at the very least, must have occurred to his left thigh and knee, and the sudden pain from straining the muscles knocks the wind from him. He stumbles a few steps forward, clutching at the building behind him. Steeling himself with a sharp inhale, he limps down the alleyway, headed to the exit opposite from where he’d seen the car pass.

There are no cars on the other street, just a small crowd of folks living the nightlife. A woman stumbles past him, drunkenly, and is soon followed by a small group of friends who take her by the shoulders and steer her towards a bus stop. Izaya feels his fingers twitch for his knife when they draw too close, he doesn’t know who is and isn’t helping his enemies, but they don’t even spare him a sidelong glance.

Instead of reaching for his knife, he clutches the ends of his makeshift bandage and pulls it taut around the injury. Blood stains his pale fingers. He hears someone click a lighter behind him, and he glances over his shoulder. Though his gaze is obscured by his dark hair, he’s able to make out the familiar shape of The Beast of Ikebukuro, cigarette drawn to his lips as they press into a smug sort of smirk as he registers Izaya’s limp.

Shizuo chuckles, “you look like shit.” Izaya stops, dead in his tracks, but manages to force what feels like his typical mischievous grin to his features. He knows it doesn’t meet his eyes, at least not entirely, when the blonde drops his own smirk and lowers his cigarette to hip-level. “You _really_ look like shit,”

Brown eyes settle on his hand clutching the makeshift bandage tight, and then drift to the end of his shirt, normally tucked into his high-waisted pants, yet this time is shredded in uneven lines. Stomping out the cigarette then, Shizuo steps forward, and, before the raven has any time to react, grabs him by the waist, and slings him into his arms.

“Let go, monster!” His fingers do travel to the knife, then, and he drives it into thick skin covering one scapula. “Don’t touch me,”

But his cries are ignored, as well as the blade now sticking out from one shoulder. Shizuo merely clutches him closer, tucking him into his chest as he avoids the nighttime crowds. Soon, he hears the man in the bartender getup rifle around his pocket for a set of keys and then unlock a door.

Kicking his apartment door aside with surprising control, Shizuo carries him inside, and then deposits him onto a worn couch. It’s long enough for the blonde to fully stretch out across, despite his tall legs, so there’s plenty of space for Izaya, who stands a handful of inches shorter. Another door is then opened. By the mirror on the wall, which Izaya can make out from his seat, he judges that the room is likely the bathroom, but he isn’t left wondering for long for soon the other returns. A small medical kit is in his grip, and he sets it down on the old coffee table before switching the living room lights on.

Temporarily blinded by the sudden influx of light, the raven blinks several times, distracted as the younger man pops the first-aid kit open. “Lemme see your arm,” Shizuo speaks, “gotta clean that up.”

Izaya can’t help but laugh as his vision clears and he sees the blonde holding out one hand as if he expects him to just drop his injured arm into that monstrous grip. “You’re kidding! Why do you even care, huh?”

“Because I’m the only one that can kill you. Your arm,” the extended hand does not falter, so, hesitant, the raven gingerly rests his right arm into the open palm. With startling gentleness, the strips of his shirt are pried off from where they stick by blood, exposing the still-bleeding wound to open air. It stings.

Shizuo draws away for a moment before returning with a cotton ball he’d tipped some rubbing alcohol onto. He takes Izaya’s arm back into his grip, holding him steady as the alcohol stings irritated flesh further. “Who managed to get close enough to you to do this?”

“Can’t say,” responds the informant, quickly, “not because I don’t want to, but because I _can’t_.” He was soon to clarify when brown eyes glanced up, curious. “I’d never seen them before, though they could have been hired by someone.”

“You do have a lot of enemies,”

“None I hate more than you though, Shizu-chan~,” Izaya drags his left-hand fingers over a tense shoulder, hidden beneath a tailored shirt and vest. “You’re my favorite monster.”

Shizuo grumbles, “tch,” and shrugs his shoulder so that the pale grip falls off. A gauze is then put over the cut, followed by a generous wrap of bandages. “It isn’t bad enough to need stitches, it’s just gonna bleed for a bit. Now lemme see your leg.”

Shifting on the couch so that he’s sitting up, the raven goes to undo his belt. Brown eyes go wide and before he can even form a proper sentence, spluttering, Izaya swiftly answers. “It’s my thigh that’s injured, though I doubt there’s much you can do,”

Crossing his arms, the hired muscle raises his shoulders defensively and grumbles once more. It’s then that he remembers there’s a knife in his back, so he moves to pull it free, distracting himself as bloodstained pants are discarded to the living room rug. When brown eyes drift back, he is quick to notice that Izaya’s entire upper leg is quickly turning a sickly shade of purple-blue.

“Damn,” his hands hover over the bare thigh, covered only at the very top by black boxer-briefs, “I might have to call Shinra over. This is gonna hurt.” Tanned fingers dig into the spaces where the bruising is the least, feeling for broken bone.

Izaya hisses, flexing his left hand as the pain sets in anew. “No need, just wrap it with some ice.”

Shizuo looks unsure, but stands to grab an ice pack all the same. “…if you get names, send ‘em my way. Nobody else can mess with you like this, got it?”

“Sounds like a love confession if I ever heard one, Shizu-chan,”

That earns a snort from the blonde as the freezer door slams shut. “As if,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos!


	4. Day Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Four:  
> Mutual Pining; 754 words

“Just ask him out,” Shinra says, late one evening as Celty cooks a belated dinner. Izaya startles on the couch adjacent to him, nearly rolling off from his languid position on the cushions. Behind them, the Dullahan jumps as well, a burst of shadows emerging from her neck.

Catching himself, though he does drop his phone, the raven splutters, “what _ever_ could you be speaking about? Are you trying to influence Celty to ask you on a date? Newsflash, weirdo, she’s already dating you.”

Shinra shakes his head, vigorously. “No, no! I’m talking about you, Izaya! It’s pretty obvious you like Shizuo.” He seems proud of his assessment, if the way he nods and crosses his arms sternly over his chest is anything to go by. “You know what they say, you always pick on those you’ve got crushes on.”

“Isn’t that kindergarteners that applies to?” Izaya mutters as he sits up to grab his phone from the floor, swiping the screen as he does. “He’d kill you if he knew you were trying to convince me to ask him out. The audacity… I’d leave if Celty wasn’t being so kind as to cook for us.”

She resists grabbing her phone to type a farewell, but decides to focus on the food instead. Scowling, the young doctor leans forward so that he’s face-to-face with the other raven. “Come on, Izaya! You know you like him; I always catch you staring at him with puppy-dog eyes when you think he’s not looking!”

“Liar,”

Celty would rub her temples if she had them. She instead sighs in her own unique way, a spout of smoke wisping across the kitchen. “Fine, deny it, but you know the truth.”

Several nights later, Shinra attempts again, but, this time, it’s Shizuo in his clutches. As he threads stitches across a gash on the blonde’s forehead, he hums thoughtfully. “So, you and Izaya,” immediately, the brow beneath where he’s stitching furrows, “you two still not getting along?”

“As if I’d ever get along with that parasite,” grumbles the older man as he clenches and unclenches his fist in his lap. “I know he’s your friend and all that, Shinra, but he’s a fuckin’ menace.”

“Wasn’t it you who said he was sort of cute in high school? Or am I remembering some other dyed-blonde, super-strength, dunderhead?” Celty turns her body slightly in their direction, suddenly more interested in them than the television.

Shizuo jolts, sitting straight-backed at the accusation. The young doctor is unfazed, and merely follows along with the motion, threading the next stitch as soon as his friend has stilled. “That was high school! We’d been drinking, and that was _before_ he ever opened his damn mouth to me!” Gritting his teeth, the blonde leaned closer, as if that would keep the Dullahan from overhearing. “You said you’d never bring that up again.”

“All I’m saying is: maybe you should ask him out? Who knows, it might help you both work out _whatever_ it is you’ve got going on.” Finished patching up the cut to his friend’s forehead, he ends the thread and leans back, checking his handiwork. “You know?”

“No. I don’t.” Shizuo gathers his things up, and makes for the door, slinging his coat over his shoulders. “Thanks for helpin’ me out again, Shinra. See you,” before he shuts the apartment door, he glances towards the doctor, eyes steely and seething, “and _never_ mention that again, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, got it. See ya, Shizuo,”

That evening, in bed, Shinra sighs into Celty’s shoulder. “Ugh, they’re both to stubborn to own up to their feelings.”

She grabs her phone and types away at the keyboard. _“Can you really be sure that it would be for the best? If they did end up together, I mean. Who’s to say they wouldn’t just be worse off than they are now?”_

“Oh, Celty, you’re so kindhearted!” He nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck, pleased. “All worried about your friends-”

_“I’d hardly call Izaya my friend,”_

“But there’s no need to worry. They’re the only one for each other. Think about it, what’s Shizuo without Izaya? Or Izaya without Shizuo? I don’t think they could ever be happy with anyone but each other.”

Wrapping both arms around the man, she goes to lay down against the mattress, taking him with her. Shinra hums into her embrace and pulls the covers atop them. “Maybe one day they’ll finally take notice… I think they’ll be a lot happier, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos!


	5. Day Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Five:  
> Confessions / “I can’t sleep, so will you hold me?”; 693 words

2:53.

It’s 2:53 in the fucking morning when his phone vibrates, rattling itself off from the corner of the coffee table where it had been precariously left the night prior. He’d arrived home late after work, not even bothering to kick off his clothes past his pants before he’d plopped down gracelessly onto his old couch. But when the phone vibrates and clatters to the floor, he shoots awake, half expecting to find some sort of crazy Ikebukuro goer had broken into his apartment.

When brown eyes settle on the offending device, he simply growls and reaches to pick it up, finding that it’s a text from a number he didn’t recognize. He nearly disregards it, moving to power his phone off when another text comes through. It takes every ounce of willpower to not crush the phone in his palm when he reads it.

 _“Shizu-chaaaan,”_ it reads, and Shizuo groans, leaning back against his couch with a quiet, building rage.

 _“You have got to be kidding me,”_ he finds himself replying without much thought, _“damned flea, what do you want? Can’t you read clocks?”_

In the break between messages, he bets that the raven is cackling to himself madly in his chair. All the same, the next text arrives. _“That’s part of the problem. It’s nearly three AM, and my mind won’t shut off.”_

_“Sounds like a personal problem. Bother someone else.”_

Before he can turn his phone off, Izaya responds. Damn, he types fast. _“I can’t sleep, so will you hold me?”_

Shizuo chokes. _“What kinda joke is that?”_

_“Call me?”_

It’s impossible to say what possessed him to do so, but the blonde taps the call icon at the top of the messenger app. Switching it to speaker so that he can lie back down, comfortably with the phone on his chest and his head on the couch’s arm, the line rings once, twice, and is halfway through the third before it’s picked up.

“I didn’t actually expect you to,” Izaya says, quiet. His voice sounds hoarse, like he’d been shouting all day. Or, maybe, sobbing all night. Unreasonably, Shizuo’s eyes immediately start to wet at the corners.

He shifts to tug a throw blanket off from the back of his couch, laying it down over his legs. “Yeah, well I wasn’t expecting you to text me. Ever.” The other side of the line draws silent for a long moment, one of those moments that’s only like, two seconds long, but it feels like an eternity and three days has passed.

He hears the raven sniff on his side before he responds. His voice sound stuffy. “I suppose it was rather out of the blue, huh,” Shizuo can imagine that he’s rubbing at his own eyes in the silence that draws between, “you can hang up. It’s okay.”

“No. I’m not giving up on you.” Izaya chokes on what sounds like a sob. “I mean,” the blonde rubs his brow, thinking, “I’m not just gonna hang up on you. Talk to me, flea.”

Another one of those long silences passes before the raven breaths heavily, a shaky sort of sigh. “Do you… ever feel lonely? Even in your own apartment?”

“Yeah,” brown eyes sting once more, “I sure do. If, uh… if you feel comfortable with it, send me your address. I won’t… I ain’t gonna hold you or nothing like that! But… at least we can be lonely together?”

Izaya laughs, but it lacks every bit of his usual mirth and malicious intent. “Okay. Bring a change of clothes, in case you need to leave from here to go to work. I’ll send it now,” his phone vibrates with a text soon after, “and, hey, Shizuo?”

“…yeah?”

He hears a hesitant start of a word, something starting with a _th_ , but it soon drowns out into a soft, “be safe?”

“Gotcha.”

Shizuo can’t help but wonder if it was an unsaid _thanks_ that hung so heavily between them. All the same, he stood up from the couch, pulled his pants back on, and went to grab a change of clothes. What a night this was turning out to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos!


	6. Day Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Six:  
> Nicknames / “The things we never said.”; 1037 words

When he’d first seen Izaya, on the first day of high school at Raira Academy, he’d reminded him of a little rabbit, one of those sorts with the long, flopped over ears. The way he’d hop, gracefully, from one group to another, strangely friendly and amicable; how his pointed, round nose would twitch slightly when he’d heard something that pleased him; those sharp, auburn eyes somehow so alert to everything around him…

Shizuo could fairly say he was smitten, at the least. So when he had later found out that they were in the same homeroom, he’d been pleased, hoping that, at the very least, they could become friends. Hopefully, the strength of a horrible beast wouldn’t scare away the rabbit.

Izaya Orihara, as he’d learned his name was, had been sat right behind him by the assigned seating. When they went around the room, introducing themselves with a simple name and their hopes for their school life, Shizuo had stood and said: “I just want to graduate.” Some of the other students had laughed at him, but not Izaya. When it came to the raven’s turn, and he stood up at his seat, he’d said: “I hope to make lasting connections, such as friends. If anyone ever needs anything, just let me know.”

The rabbit, then, it had seemed, was a rather nice person.

At lunch, several weeks into the semester, Shinra and Tom came to visit from their own homeroom, just the door over. When Shinra had taken notice of the raven sat behind Shizuo, he exclaimed. “Oh hey! Shizuo! You didn’t mention Izaya was in your homeroom!”

“You know each other?” Izaya asked, leaning forward with his hands on the blonde’s shoulders. It took every ounce of willpower for him to not shiver at the touch of slim fingers brushing past his hair and then placing onto his tense shoulders. “You hadn’t mentiond you knew anyone in my class.”

“Because I didn’t know!” Shinra drew an empty chair to the side of Shizuo’s desk, though Tom merely leaned against it. “My two best friends, and they’re both in the same homeroom without me…”

Now that he mentioned it, yeah! That’s right, Shinra had another friend named Izaya. He should’ve known with a name like that, there was no way there could’ve been two of them in the school. Glancing at the raven hovering above him, he hummed. “Small world, huh?”

“Sure is, Shizu-chan,”

Something fell in the blonde’s chest, and his brow twitched. “What?”

“Shizu-chan! I heard a girl call you that, once, during our first homeroom. I thought it was rather cute~,”

Shizuo couldn’t help but shrug the hands off his shoulders then. “Don’t call me that,” he said as he started to rise, but Shinra stepped between them, fully aware of his friend’s short temper his over-the-top strength.

“Woah, woah, it’s okay, Shizuo! He doesn’t mean any harm, Izaya just has no filter.” Tom placed a hand onto his shoulder, and pulled him aside. “Let’s just take it easy, huh?”

Izaya seemed proud of himself, puffing out his chest slightly as he glanced the blonde’s way. His auburn eyes were alight with mischief, pale cheeks flushed with a content pride, and, when he grinned, Shizuo could see sharp teeth behind those lips.

Ah, perhaps he was a fox then.

“Damn flea,” Shizuo had hissed at him the first time he’d swiped a knife in his direction before backing away with an elegant hop, “stay still so I can squash you!” But he did not stay still, instead scaling to the top of an empty bleacher.

“I bet you could squash me like a bug, you monster.”

The words stung, deep in his chest, and shattered something he hadn’t known was there. Shizuo swung towards him, roaring, but Izaya merely jumped above him, kicking off the top of his head to land behind.

“I am! Not! A monster!”

But shattered beneath him laid the remnants of the bleachers, and, when he lunged forward, Izaya was stunned enough to be caught by both wrists, and held several feet above the ground. Holding the other student above him like that, auburn eyes bright with fear, he realized that, yes, he was rather monstrous, and Izaya was, in fact, a rabbit, just one who thought he was a predator.

Years later, high school just bygone days, and Shizuo had shattered Izaya’s body, he receives a text from a number he shouldn’t recognize that merely reads, “Russia Sushi, at noon?” He knows he shouldn’t go, but he does anyways, expecting to see a rabbit in a fox’s clothing waiting for him at the counter.

Instead, he’s directed to a separate room, one which was often set aside for parties and other large reservations. Izaya sits at the head of the table, a glass in his hands, and, when Shizuo enters the room, brown eyes notice how the ice inside the glass began to tremble with pale fingers. Auburn eyes met his, and the raven motions for him to come sit.

As he steps closer, he takes notice of the chair that had been pulled away from the table and leaned against the wall. Closer, he notices that the seat had been replaced by a wheelchair, in which Izaya sits.

Shizuo takes his own seat as close as he can stomach.

“You wanted to see me?” Asks the blonde, his fingers fiddling in his lap. He suddenly wishes he could smoke.

Izaya watches him with a wary sort of gaze, but draws a short breath. “I know you said for me to never return to Ikebukuro, but,” he falls quiet, and he sits his cup down, “but I… I don’t know, actually. I hadn’t thought this far.”

“Did you come to kill me?” A shake of the head. “Just wanted to see me, then?” A nod, albeit shy. “Wanted to… apologize?”

He looks unsure then, more so than he already had. “I wanted to…”

“Say the things that we never said?” Auburn eyes settled on the glass of water, watching a bead of participation travel down the cup as his something pinpricked his eyes. “Start talking, then, rabbit,”

Izaya looks confused, but opens his mouth all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos!


	7. Day Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Seven:  
> Reunion / “I missed you.”; 401 words

Izaya hadn’t been seen nor heard from in years, not even by his sisters, who had begun to actually _worry_ about him. His hands tremble as he speaks his pains into the open air, where Shizuo could catch them fully and finally take in the answers to questions he’s held for a long while. Plans, ideas, sacrifices, everything is finally laid out onto the table between them.

But Shizuo let most of them slip past him after he’d heard the quiet admission whispered into open air. “I missed you,” Izaya says, his head low between his shoulders, “I realized when I thought that I had _succeeded_ , even if it was a short, brief moment, that I _missed_ you. I had thought I’d killed you, and the whole world fell apart around me.”

Tears flow, freely, from auburn eyes turned glassy, and his shoulders shook from the sobs that began to rack his frame. Shizuo’s heart aches, _he’d_ played a part in this, but his eyes stay dry regardless. For now, at least.

Though, he soon stands, and Izaya, who had lowered his head as he continued to speak, doesn’t take notice of him when he moves closer. He finally glances up when a tanned hand settles on his shoulder, then travels upwards to his chin, before gently cupping his cheek, thumb wiping away what tears were within reach.

“Just shut up,” Shizuo says, “don’t act like you’re the only one that played a part in all this. You can’t hold all of this on your own shoulders,” the blonde leans forward, catching the thin frame of the older man in his arms, always so lithe but never so frail.

Izaya melts into his embrace, even if he is a bit tense. Shizuo can’t blame him, he’d done this to him, after all. “I promise, I won’t hurt you again,” his nose brushes against raven locks, his next inhale full of a warm, earthy scent, “I swear it. Let me help you, let me make all of this up to you.”

“Only if you let me do the same,” shaky fingers settle in his dyed hair, running through the coarse locks, “we both made these mistakes, so it’s only fair.” Shizuo merely nods into the touch. “And you’re allowed to change your mind, I know I did so many horrible things to you.”

“I’m never giving up on you, Izaya. Not again,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this in its entirety! Please leave a comment or kudos!


End file.
